


I was there

by 8sylvaninspiration8



Category: Violet Evergarden (Anime)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 17:08:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8sylvaninspiration8/pseuds/8sylvaninspiration8
Summary: Violet Evergarden demonstrates the winning side of the war. How about the other side? We follow the story of a Gardariki soldier and his troubles along with his view of Violet.





	I was there

**Author's Note:**

> Since I saw Violet Evergarden I wanted to write a story in connection with it. But I was unable to think of a worthy solution. Writing to any other movie had been easy (at least the start), I just had to pick up a pen and write down something. An alternative story ending. Or something completely new. Not at this tale. It was too exquisite, too perfect. I felt that a single stroke of paintbrush could ruin the masterpiece on which many people worked so hard. After several hours spent in the dark listening to its soundtrack it came to me. I put my effort into something I hoped would approach the perfect anime as I was certain it would never be able to reach the same quality. From the bottom of my heart.... I wish you to enjoy my imperfect tale.

I was there. Positioned in the front of the last desperate battle where we took away numerous precious lives, riving fathers from their families forever. Seeking something we never had the chance of achieving, we followed orders not once hesitating whether we should continue or would it be wiser to withdraw – but obeying was obligatory.

Minutes crept past, each of them seemingly everlasting as we waited for the enemy to draw near. Minutes that set on your nerves. Then the creaking of the door opening. The first confident steps turning hesitant due to the ‘empty room’, as hidden behind the railing we were invisible from their sight. A glance at my comrades eagerly waiting for the command. The nod of a head. We opened artillery fire. The position I was ordered to seemed to be a safe one – the enemy never stood a chance to retreat and their numbers faded away like figures in the mist. No survivors would remain. The order had made that clear. Yet, by a miracle, two of them turned their guns against us, two people who made the battle turn, who made our lives a nightmare from where there was no escape.

It was the first time I laid my eyes on her - and I could only hope, that the last. Her clothes and her blonde hair stained with the blood of the people she had already sent to the Underworld mercilessly, not even thinking twice about their lives, the families which would be waiting for a lost father, a lost son.  
Offensive light dancing in those chalcanthite eyes gleaming with beauty and danger made my heart ache – she could have been an exquisite young lady if she came to this world at a better time. I could not believe my eyes how those pale graceful hands could carry the lives of hundreds in a weapon, how those fragile fingers could pull the trigger not facing the consequences…

A bullet whirled past, missing my body by inches, separating a chip off the sturdy wall causing it to wound my arm.

I was not capable of feeling the pain.

I did not realise my trembling step backwards.

My eyes were locked on hers – those chalcanthite eyes filled with beauty and death.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rumours told the truth. Realisation dawned in me as she turned, her blood-stained hair swinging disobediently behind her as she faced a soldier expectantly. His words did not reach my ears, they were masked by the ear-piercing bluster of the guns, but the way she turned to consummate the tuneless order reflected that he was a superior, while she was a weapon. A breath-taking sight wasted like a piece of metal, an object brought to perfection to implement others’ dirty desires, only to be disposed of after the War eventuated in either victory or losing. Like a gun without being taken good care of would shatter, the puppet girl without orders would wither and die.

 

The pain I experienced brought me back to the battlefield, to the grim, unforgiving reality. Unconscious of my whereabouts only after being awakened from my thoughts I examined the carvings of the chamber’s ceiling, those precise elements making a breath-taking architecture rise above all else. I was resting on the cold dank floor, its solidity hurting my back, yet I did not possess the right amount of energy to make rising a successful procedure. Pressing my hand to my side let me feel the pulsing of my blood from which more abandoned my body with every single second. My fight was lost and I acknowledged the truth, but thought hard to make it possible to remember a single detail which caused my downfall. My vision turned blurry, but not my mind which was capable of reaching unforgettable heights until the piece of memory came:

Me staring into those chalcanthite eyes I felt my faltering step. Entrapped in them, unable to free my will or to force my finger to pull the trigger to end the fight. Sensing that expressionless face turn cold, those eyes being filled with steel, her gaze piercing through my body causing a wound always to be remembered. The reek rising from the edge of her weapon…

I laid unmoving on the solid ground tainted with my blood. I heard the enemy’s body founder, the faint moaning dying away, the silent noise of bickering footsteps signalling that our quest failed, that hope was beyond achieving. My gaze shifted back to the ceiling with the certain consciousness of the dying. I faced the truth with a last, embittered smile, the curling of the lips that did not know the pleasing feeling of a kiss, that did not know love and would turn to ashes without ever entering into possession of the knowledge. I accepted my fate.

The sound of approaching footsteps reverberated in the lonesome corridors which were filled with what war could offer: pain, blood, corpses, sorrow. My body left the stone-cold floor as my head rose to intake more of the remains of the sanguinary battle. A friend or a foe made me get on my legs – it did not matter the time being – and half-carried me away from the fallen making me to enter the world of living. Not once have I tried to express my gratitude towards my saviour, but not even a hoarse croak escaped my dry throat. My lips moved tunelessly repeating the same words while they were trapped inside building up rapidly, only to collapse minutes later, but he never even glanced at me.

We walked. Step after step we covered the same route I have planned to follow just a while ago.

We walked out of the sorrow.

A step.

Out of the pain.

A step.

Out of the battle.

A step.

Out of the war.

A step – the last I remember taking, but which meant the most and after several hours of fighting as the result of exhaustion and blood loss my consciousness slipped away to a better place.

 

My eyes shot open wide, instantly alert to the faint rumbling sound which increased into earth-shaking roar chasing away all my tiredness. In the distance grey clouds of smoke steeped with sparks rose high, as flames quickly followed and died away after the massive explosion which carried the message that we had lost. Abandoning our stronghold filled with our comrades the nation blew up the enemy’s troops – a last desperate movement to prove our worth, to give the other side a greater loss in numbers not caring about the wounded who were not capable of retreating – such as I could have been.

The air grew stiff with fume obstructing oxygen to enter my bad-conditioned body. I gasped to get fresh air, only to inhale more of the smoke. Coughing brought tears to my eyes until I could only examine the world through a watery haze. Located in the midst of a glade, my eyes suffused with tears I took in the sight of the devastated fortress, fires still blazing, nourishing the stifling reek which could not subside despite the faint breeze. I sat hunched up gasping for air as the treeline swayed and approached, closing in. Only after the sounds of a bark-like order reached my ears did I realise that the forest which surrounded me was made up of soldiers, not trees.

The similarity of our tattered uniforms was visible for observant eyes, despite the fact that I was unable to sense it due to the amount of tears flooding my eyes. I felt my body being lifted and I was dragged along with the current pulsing through the fields in rows abandoning the fortress, like veins leaving the heart.

My energies were at the limit, making resistance impossible, my strength was barely enough to keep my head up. The scenery changed at an enormous speed forming a transition from the woods to the fields, and back to the woods yet another time. The distance we had covered only grew along with the urge of escaping and the sweat on our foreheads. A race against time in order to reach safety and medical treatment for the wounded such as myself. If only I could have helped, but my will turned out to be more persistent than my worn-out body covered with gashes.

Regrettably I do not possess the memory of the rest of our trip or my hospitalisation, nor of my journey homewards, only of my homecoming.

The field I stood on taking in the sight beyond my depth – the charred remains of the late mansion that I had once called my home. All the beauty, all the animate atmosphere vanished, giving its place to the shadow of death. The pounding of my heart accelerated, like a bird trying to get free of its cage my heart beat so hard that made my rib ache. My legs moved on their own as I tore across the space.

“Mother! Father!”

The apprehensive cry reverberated from the doleful sooty brickwork not obliterating my uneasiness. Ramaging through the remains made the fact sink – not a soul was around. Nothing, but silence and…

A stone. Some withered flowers. Two carved names that sounded all too familiar.

I dropped to my knees grasping my chest that felt like it was being torn apart. It was not supposed to end like this. If only I could have said goodbye. Or could have let them know that I had loved them. I should have been helping them to survive. If I had been courageous I would be with them now at a better place.  
My world split in two and all I could do was watch the other part filled with joy drift apart. The sun shone like never before, yet night ruled my soul overspreading it with darkness.

“Goodbye” a whisper dying away carried by the wind which for one moment rose mirroring a last miserable intake of breath.

I was conscious of the fatal outcomes of every war including ours, but not even in my wildest dreams would it strike me that the fights could have reached my family riving my beloved parents away to unreachable distances.

Yet, there I was battling for breath stooping in front of the simple grey rock with those carved words, the names of the people whose existence was my world which was now crumbling to pieces. I did not acknowledge the time flowing, I did not remember the factual amount of hours I spent there unable to break free from the gaze of those four roughly-shaped, yet beautiful words.

My eyes were dry like a well in a desert and those tears which could have brought relief, like the rain never came.

Dusk fell by the time I got up – no, it was not me, more like an embittered shell of the once so animate body I possessed. I got to my feet and abandoned the once loved surroundings devoting my life to vagabondage as remaining or settling down at a place was beyond my capability. The land which raised me, the land for which so many had lost their precious lives, for which I had fought so desperately became so faraway, so obscure. Even though I stalked through numberless wild lands my feet touching its soil with every taken step it was no longer the place I belonged to, no longer the place I could call my home. I was not even the shadow of my former self, only a soulless ghost wandering forever in the somber whose existence no longer served a purpose.

Bereavement enshrouded my days spent in monotonity which could not be broken by the various landscapes, every one of them striking people all on their own – all of it could not reach my weather-beaten soul. I was betrayed and abandoned by everything. 

For this feeling I tried to avoid habited terrains not being capable of facing those who had the glory promised before, caring families whose heroes they were themselves. But to get the ingredient for proper nutrition intake the next settlement I approached could not be avoided.

The moment I set my foot on its cobblestones the memories of violent scenes burned into me like scars awakened. Between the two rows of vast buildings I felt myself small as the buildups augmented in my eyes menacingly, setting their weight on my mind to the point I almost failed to withhold a tuneless scream. The mass of people passing me by dressed up in colourful clothes transformed to an untraceable confusing cavalcade trying to suffocate the soulless shell of the man who, like many else, had the dream of becoming a war hero once.

My sight regained focus after catching glimpse of a harmless conversation. A name which carried the hope of becoming part of the society again. A second chance. My time spent in the settlement could not be wasted anymore. The desperation to achieve a better outcome of the future burned away the sorrow filling the shell with newly awakened energy exchanging black for sanguine.

The anti-peace faction of Gardarik probably under the command of a superior who could not let the humiliation at Intense fade away, who could give our wretched souls salvation. I, the one who had been dragged, forced to enter the world of living sought remedy for the wounds that even time couldn’t heal, hoping to find the reason to live in violence and pain. Maybe I hadn’t been experienced enough to accomplish my first mission in order to stop the advancing enemy in their tracks, to slaughter all so there would be no traces to signal. Maybe I had been too reluctant to follow the order or this failure was all I was able to manage, but I would make it certain to succeed when the opportunity rose!

I ran out of time. A slight miscalculation around my arrival and I experienced my hope vanish yet another time. The anti-peace faction of Gardarik, whose ranks I was so eager to join had been scattered around the land, slaughtered. The leader’s cadaver had been found washed ashore a few miles downstream from the Grandezza Bridge, his cast of features expressing the certainty of victory for which sacrificing his life would be considered inexpensive.  
The General left the world without the sufficient knowledge that his plan was not carried out, that despite his efforts the sides managed to sign the peace treaty. I could only hold myself responsible for my imprecision, another item lengthening my list of the mistakes that couldn’t be undone. Guilt invited the soulless ghost back and it returned without hesitation.

Days or weeks passed? I had lost track of time a while ago. Surprising piece of news made the towns buzz with anxious joy. An air show in Leiden, the enemy’s capital, which had not been held in a while due to the War. And the reason why it flipped me out to attend it? I lacked the ability to understand. Maybe all I wanted was bringing joy and vigour back to my soul or after becoming aware of the custom of sending out a letter to your loved ones I felt this raised a chance which could not be wasted. The reason was still beyond me when I stepped over the doorsill of the first building which could contain ghostwriters.

Across the room I entered, behind the desk with the typewriter sat the Girl I was not keen on seeing again.

The Battle Doll of Leidenschaftlich.

My hand flew unconsciously to my side. I had my heart in my boot and turned, but it was too late, my presence had been noticed. I took the offered seat and stared downward hard at the polished table.

“I would like to address the letter to my parents.”

“Understood.”

A statement which made me look into those chalcanthite eyes once more. She was a mechanical doll, a heartless instrument of warfare still following orders. Then she bit her gloves to pull it down. The expression I made must have been a dumbfounded one, because she talked to me unexpectedly.

“I am fully aware of the disquieting sight, but I would like to reassure you that it will not hinder my work.” 

“Right. A letter to my parents then. You see, the day I returned from the battlefield I could not find them anywhere. Only a grey stone at the back of our garden which had their names on it. I … I cannot accept it…”

Why did I utter those words? Because I hoped she experienced it herself? Because I thought we as soldiers were familiar? She, the emotionless weapon would know how I felt? My eyes widened at her stunning answer.

“I understand. I understand how you feel very well.”

Her chalcanthite eyes were filled with pain, the ability to understand one whose world was lost. Her hands gleamed in the light and clinked while she grasped something precious for her what I later recognised to be a brooch. An emerald brooch. As if the steel was drawn out of her and forged to replace her missing hands her demeanour changed, her eyes lost their look of poison. She could no longer be called expressionless.

This girl whose world the military was itself could keep walking towards the future, could accept her fate despite the sorrow. Something I was never capable of doing myself. Then she voiced a statement:

“One of my coworkers uttered these words to me: No matter how far they might be, loved ones will always watch over you.”

How simple and yet a new meaning showing me not to give up so easily. An assertion not to be ignored. What if it demonstrated the truth? What would my parents’ reaction be if they observed my previous actions? They would tell me I had to live. To live and…

“Sir, will this do?”

On the paper which was held out to me the words slightly danced forming an exquisite tale bringing tears to my eyes. The unshed tears that did not arrive at the grave came out forming an unstoppable flow. I did not mind them like I would have, despite that I was accompanied by not just one person. They brought the relief I was looking for and that was not something to be ashamed of.

“Would… would you write a letter of gratitude for me?” I managed out between two sobs.

“Of course”

“There was someone who saved my life when I was a soldier. I could never thank him. And later on nor I wished to. I saw him as the cause for my being alive while my parents are… well, dead or missing. But would you please write it like so: I owe my life to you. Thank you.”

“Right”

And she started. Those adamantine fingers pushed down each and every character, yet the sounds did not hurt, they built up a song filled with the gratitude I was never capable of expressing and I knew it would be the best letter ever to be written to give thanks.

Emerging from the building my surroundings formed a new unknown world filled with mysteries and options. I stepped down the stairs. Finally I was able to move on to embrace my future. The information consisting the death of my parents began to pass out of sight and although it would accompany me throughout my life, the knowledge did no longer chain me down in a broken, empty soul.

It was beyond belief, but the one who provided salvation to my heart by showing me the love of others was the former weapon without emotions, an Auto Memoir Doll whose letters slipped into people’s hearts, a person who became worthy of the name:

Violet Evergarden

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Chalcanthite is a mineral which has the colour of Violet's eyes, but is poisonous. You can check more out about it at this website: https://www.thinglink.com/scene/589455883692408834  
> Please comment so I can improve my writing skills!


End file.
